


to keep this night

by Val Mora (valmora)



Series: nice jewish boyfriends [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, Foreplay, Jewish Character, Light Bondage, M/M, No Sex, cat jokes, offscreen oral sex, relaxed observance of sabbath restrictions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-13 02:37:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4504413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valmora/pseuds/Val%20Mora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The streetlights feel very bright, after the candlelit darkness of the Barneses' apartment. The clubs are all open, with Friday night crowds, and the sound spills out the doors on their walk home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to keep this night

**Author's Note:**

> This fic owes its existence, long-term, to a line from Daegaer's Good Omens fic "[Ordinary People](http://archiveofourown.org/works/407890)," which I read probably around 2004, so you can imagine how long that line's been rattling around in my head.
> 
> Thanks as always to [Pargoletta](http://pargoletta.livejournal.com/). (I keep using your extensive historical and linguistic knowledge for evil. Sorry.) Any errors in historical or even current practice are a combination of Steve and Bucky's willful neglect and my own ignorance.
> 
> Thanks also to [WishingStar](http://archiveofourown.org/users/WishingStar/pseuds/WishingStar), who did a lightning-fast beta job.

The streetlights feel very bright, after the candlelit darkness of the Barneses' apartment. The clubs are all open, with Friday night crowds, and the sound spills out the doors. Steve's hands are shoved in his coat pockets, but Bucky's scuffing his shoes on the pavement in time with the music from the places they pass.

"Hey, c'mon, we should go in," Bucky says.

"And then explain to your ma why you're hungover?" There's a quirk to Steve's smile, though, and he's imitating her accent when he adds, "She raised you better than that, Buckele, look at Steven, such an honest boy, can't you be more like him-" until Bucky, laughing, punches his shoulder and starts shaking him to get him to stop.

"Respect thy mother," Bucky starts, "and I know she's not yours, but try telling her that."

"Don't I know it," Steve groans into Bucky's shoulder, leaning against him, and Bucky takes the opportunity to slide one hand into Steve's, the other on his shoulder, spinning him a little to the music there in the street.

Steve goes along with it, for once, turning with Bucky, hand settling on his waist. Bucky leans into it, his skin under Steve's touch lit up with the gentle pressure, until a pair of men passing by yell something encouraging and obscene, and Steve goes stiff in Bucky's arms. "Let's go home."

Bucky was hoping Steve would just ignore it. He strokes a thumb at Steve's collarbone, wishing that flicker of a smile at the corner of Steve's mouth would come back. "Okay." He lets Steve's fingers slide out of his, lets his hand drop. The space between his fingers aches as he shoves his hands back in his coat pockets.

The door to their apartment sticks when Steve unlocks it, as usual, and he has to jam his shoulder into the wood, close to the frame, to get it open. Bucky follows in after him and pulls aside the curtains to let in some light from the street.

Louis Moreno in the apartment below theirs usually has the radio on, Friday nights, and sometimes Bucky gets to sing along while he tries to read in the near-dark, but Louis must be out tonight – maybe he went up to Harlem, he'd been threatening to, for the music – so it's quiet enough to hear the murmur of conversation from Martha and Helen's on the other side.

"Sorry there's no music." Steve's shoulders are hunched as he slips his coat off onto the hooks on the back of the door.

"'s all right." Bucky touches Steve's elbow. "Could just sing for you."

Steve snorts. "Martha's already accusing me of feeding stray tomcats. Don't need you making her think I was lying."

"Weren't lying." Bucky leans in close, kisses his neck. The smell of candle-smoke is caught in Steve's hair, lingers on his skin, still, and Steve's hand is on Bucky's elbow, holding him close a little longer.

"What, you lookin' to get thrown out?"

"Hey now," Bucky wheedles, reflexive, arms tightening around Steve's chest, "don't be like that."

"I oughta dump cold water on you," Steve says, but he's got a hand on Bucky's waist now too, so he doesn't really mind.

"You're the one with the claws, ketsele," Bucky says, and has to laugh into Steve's shoulder as Steve yelps with outrage and wriggles out of Bucky's hug.

Bucky lets him go, easy, and takes his coat off. There's a silver-purple sheen to Steve's skin as he undresses for bed in the light from the window. 

"You gonna stay up?" Steve asks.

"And do what?" Bucky waves a hand at the darkness in the apartment. "Read Torah by streetlight? Debate – I don't know, what was Moss Aronofsky even talking about?"

"It definitely involved cows."

"He wants to fuck cows, probably." 

"Pretty sure that would be idolatry."

"Only if he gets on his knees."

Steve laughs. He's naked, now, clothes folded and hung up. Bony shoulder, stomach pale, spaces stretched between his ribs perfect for Bucky's fingers to slot against. His cock is soft, just hanging there, and his ankles are thin-skinned as he pauses, watching Bucky back, before tucking the sheet down from where they threw it up over the bed this morning.

"Can't fault him for liking animals, even if I prefer mine a little wilder, eh, ketsele?" Bucky says, to stop himself going gentle and sweet, and treasures Steve's huff of annoyed surprise and reluctant amusement, the way Steve drops onto the bed and puts his face in his hands to rub the smile off.

"I'm going to make you regret that."

Probably by being playful and rough in bed. Bucky's skin prickles. Steve could – hold him down, not for real, but enough to remember to stay still, and maybe gag him, like that time after Bucky got too enthusiastic sucking him and nearly shot off just from that, from the helpless depth and heat of having his mouth used – 

"Looking forward to it," he manages, voice thick.

Steve smirks. Bucky leans a hand on the mattress, close to Steve's hip, and bends to kiss him.

Steve bites Bucky's lip.

"Mrow," Bucky says, clearly possessed of no self-preservation where Steve and sex are concerned, and licks it.

Steve, laughing, flops onto the bed while Bucky strips. His socks are the last to come off, his fingers cold against the soles of his feet. When he glances up, Steve's watching him, gaze heavy, whole body stretched out on the sheets.

Bucky looks at him back, mouth dry, heart pounding. Steve, here, with him.

Steve stretches out a hand, and Bucky catches it, palms pressing together. Neither of them lets go while Bucky gets on the bed, and they wrap themselves around each other, on their sides.

His chin fits just right hooked into Steve's shoulder, his arm curling over Steve's waist.

"We had a customer today," Steve says after a moment, "who bought out all our sweet rolls. Not the pastries, or any real bread. Just the sweet rolls. All fifty of them."

That's - a lot. Steve usually gets the day-old leftovers, and even he and Bucky wouldn't be able to eat that much before it went bad. "'d she say why?"

"Nah. I wasn't sure they were all gonna fit in the bag, either."

"Spilling sweet rolls after her like the witch took a hint from Hansel and Gretel," Bucky agrees. "Children following after."

"And she's already near an oven in the bakery," Steve murmurs against his temple. "Might let her eat a kid once in a while, the way they drool over the pastries."

"Even wicked witches have to eat." Bucky hooks his chin in tighter, from where it slipped as he smiled, then thinks better of it and licks Steve's shoulder. "Yum. Fresh man. Still talking."

Steve pinches his side, not really even hard enough to sting, but there's a laugh under the words when he says, "If you're going to talk about eating me, you better be prepared to put your mouth where your words are."

Bucky kisses his collarbones, lingering, open-mouthed. "Believe me, I am."

"Good." Steve's thumb traces the line of his shoulder blades, slow repetitive curves. Echoes of the sensation ripple all down the length of Bucky's spine, little shivers of cold in the warmth between the two of them.

"Maybe she just wanted to make sure the handsome clerk behind the counter remembered her."

Steve huffs. "She had to've been over fifty, Bucky."

"Can't help it if she likes younger men. Maybe she's a rich heiress looking for a man to –" He licks Steve's palm where it's been shoved over his mouth.

"Don't make me quote the Song of Songs at you again." Steve takes his hand off Bucky's mouth, probably thinking that being reminded of the first Friday after they moved in together will make Bucky be serious. He's wrong.

"It counts as study so you probably –"

Bucky gets pushed onto his back and kissed.

"I let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth," Bucky manages in Hebrew, mostly incomprehensible and against Steve's lips.

"That's definitely wrong," Steve says, and then, " _Let_ him kiss me," because he's a fucking show-off. Who does he think he's fooling? And he's already got Bucky down to – down to every part of him, bones and balls and blood and his own soul.

"Fine," Bucky sighs, and eases Steve down into lying on him, for kissing. Steve's ribs dig into his, weight compressing his chest, warm and half-hard.

Steve rocks down against him, and Bucky breaks the kiss to pout against Steve's temple.

"You got a request?" Steve says, biting a little at Bucky's collarbone, where it won't show - not like his neck, jeez, Bucky does not miss being eighteen, constantly bruised-up from Steve's teeth, and worrying his ma would think he was seeing some vampire of a shiksa – "'Cause I was thinking."

"Save me from Steve Rogers thinking." He runs a hand through Steve's hair. It parts for his fingers like a palmful of water, then flops back into place. "What's your brilliant idea?"

"See if I suck you after that." Steve's voice is high with mock-indignation, and Bucky has to – 

"No, go right ahead." He rubs his thumb at the corner of Steve's gorgeous pink mouth. Steve parts his lips, closes them over just the barest tip of Bucky's finger. Flicker of tongue, barely felt. His eyes are low, more thoughtfulness than being sultry on purpose, but the focus of it makes Bucky glad it's his hand and not his dick, otherwise this'd be over soon.

Steve licks at his thumb once more, then pulls away from it and sits back, on Bucky's hips.

Bucky settles his hands on Steve's knees. Wants to brush his thumbs against skin, but Steve's ticklish there. "I'm listening."

Steve shifts a little, unhelpfully close and too far from where he wants it. "Was talking to Sofia at class last week. 'pparently, Jane likes, y'know," he shrugs, strokes Bucky's stomach. "Being touched when she can't touch back or change things. How she can just enjoy it." His shoulders curve a little inwards.

Bucky covers his face. "Why were you talking about sex with Sofia?"

"She started it!"

"Yeah, I bet." Bucky tucks a finger in the crease of Steve's knee, for the warmth and reassuring pressure of it. "'s that something you want?"

Steve nudges at the inside of Bucky's belly button with one finger, like he's picking lint out of it. Bucky rolls his eyes and puts up with it, even if it feels weird.

"I was listening, and Jane, she works as a jeweler's apprentice, you remember, she's got real long hair and a nice figure –"

Sure, he remembers. Stylish dresser - that purple dress had been a knockout - and smokes the same brand Bucky does, so they'd shared one, trying to keep the smoke away from Steve, while the four of them talked. Bucky grins, flexes a knee to rock Steve a little, interrupt him. "You tryin' to make me jealous enough to turn you over?"

"What I'm trying to say," Steve continues, dogged, "is I wanna tie you up."

Bucky's dick fucking _pulses_. He swallows. "'n do what, once you got me there?" Steve pushing easy into his mouth, or taking his time teasing Bucky with the heat of his body, sure to his bones of his welcome. 

"Dunno. See how much we like it, I think." Steve's hip is warm under his hand.

He licks his lips. "Can already tell you I do. Got some suggestions for stuff you can do, too."

"Yeah?" Steve pokes his stomach, pretending to scowl. "Who've you been talking about sex with?"

Bucky tickles his knee and says, sweetly to cover his nerves, "Well, you know, kitten, sometimes I go tom-catting around – " and he's still laughing when Steve, exasperated, gets off him and goes to the dresser, pulling out a stray scrap of cloth. 

"Put your hands together."

Bucky puts 'em up, above his head, so his shoulder muscles bunch up. Steve likes his muscles, so no harm in giving him something to look at.

Steve gets back on the bed, straddling Bucky's chest, then sighs and says, "It doesn't count as work if it's for sex, right?"

"Don't really care, to be honest." He breathes in extra-deep to feel the press of Steve's thighs against his ribs.

"All right." A hand through his hair, and Steve's dick bobs over Bucky's chin while he fusses with the cloth, tying Bucky's wrists together, careful. "This too tight?"

"Don't think so." It doesn't hurt, but won't slip off. He stretches up, rubs his lips against Steve. "Wanna stay there and let me suck you?"

Steve makes a short, choked-off noise and puts a hand back in Bucky's hair. "'n then what?"

"We'll figure something out." If his hands were free, he'd be stroking Steve's thighs, urging him closer. Instead, he cranes his neck, exhales warm over Steve's skin. The bed smells pretty heavy of them – not like they only have sex on Fridays, even if more often than not it's just watching whichever one wanted it, maybe a hand to help. It's hard to have the energy for more, most nights.

He breathes in, over-loud so Steve has a chance of hearing. "What, you got a better idea for my mouth?"

Steve's dick twitches, but he shuffles back a little, leans down, hands on either side of Bucky's shoulders. "Yeah, I do," he says, and kisses Bucky, gentle, and Bucky can't pull him down closer to deepen it.

This is going to drive him crazy. Definitely in a good way.

When Steve breaks the kiss to breathe, Bucky offers, "I could pet you, after."

Steve bites his lip. Hard.

"Not," he pronounces, " a cat."

Bucky manages, somehow, not to laugh. "Strong feelings about what you like, would rather claw me than be petted? You're a cat." He nuzzles up against Steve's cheek and lets himself grin. "It's a good thing we both are."

"So you go yowling at the moon and piss on my shoes to show I'm yours?"

Someday he'd like to live in a place where they can make as much noise as they want, no neighbors making jokes after things get loud. "If you want." He licks his lips, clearing some of the spit, and swallows noisily and deliberately. "I'd rather play with you than string, though."

Steve presses some fingers against Bucky's ribs, marking him up a little. "Doing both right now."

"I'm not feeling played with." Bucky doesn't rock up into Steve's weight. He probably deserves a medal for his self-restraint.

"Sure you are." Steve, grin in his words like he heard Bucky defeating his own baser urges, reaches behind himself to stroke Bucky's thigh. "Anticipation's as good as the eating."

"Let me eat you and prove it." He bends his elbows, strains up toward Steve, who just goes back to kissing him, the asshole.

Bucky doesn't get bitten this time, but he also drags his arms up to drape them, wrists still tied together, over Steve's neck, holding him close. Steve doesn't duck out of the embrace, just kisses deeper and more eager until their teeth jar and, wincing, they part a little. Far enough to feel how Steve's chest is heaving.

"You okay?" He unhooks his hands from the back of Steve's head, but they aren't turned right to touch Steve's face.

"I'm fine." Steve looks away, jaw clenching.

"Good. Hate to think you'd decided to prowl off looking for a better mouse."

That was a weak pun. He should probably be ashamed, but it's made Steve's expression lighten.

Steve covers Bucky's mouth, fingertips brushing his teeth through his smile. "Thought you were a tomcat."

"Way you're toying with me…" Bucky licks Steve's fingers, slow, lapping at them. Lets his eyes close. Chases the faint taste of salt all the lengths of Steve's fingers.

"You like it, though." Steve pushes his fingers a little deeper, tracing Bucky's tongue, the rows of his teeth.

Bucky grunts, agreeing, and tries to open his throat, let Steve touch him deeper, but Steve pulls out and wipes his fingers on the sheets next to Bucky's ear.

"Fine," he sighs, like he's just lost an argument with a Bucky in his head – and that's kind of nice, knowing there's a little Bucky-voice in there somewhere arguing against Steve doing something stupid, and arguing for letting Bucky use his mouth. 

He grins as Steve shuffles up the bed. "C'mon, kitty. Let me pet you."

"That's terrible, shut up," Steve grumbles, and presses his dick to the corner of Bucky's mouth. Bucky turns, kisses it, and gets to – well, not work at all.

**Author's Note:**

> "Ketsele" is Yiddish for "kitten" - and not uncommonly used as a fond epithet for a child. Bucky, like in other fics I've written, is not precisely fluent in Yiddish here. His parents, although native speakers of Yiddish, speak English to the children under the belief that different home and school languages interferes with language acquisition (since proven to be untrue). This is one reading for why he's mixing the contexts of the nickname ("kitten," in English, is more frequently used to describe an attractive woman) - the other, of course, is that he and Steve both know it refers to children, and he's playing off the implicit jab. 
> 
> If you liked this fic and wish to meet the writer behind the words, find me on [tumblr](http://val-mora.tumblr.com).


End file.
